how, real as he had
been, he seemed at this moment strangely apart, something in the
abstract. Then all illusive speculations merged abruptly into a
realization that needed no demonstration. Sonia Turgeinov possessed a
certain outre attractiveness the young girl had never noted before. The
violet eyes, shining through the long shading lashes, rested a moment on
her; then passed steadily beyond.

"I'm off for a look around." Mr. Heatherbloom, having transferred their
meager possessions to the tent, now addressed Miss Dalrymple, or Sonia
Turgeinov, or an indefinite space between them. "Better stay right here
while I'm gone." His tones had a firm accent. "Sorry there are only
biscuits for breakfast, but perhaps there'll be better fare before long.
If you should move around"--his eye lingered authoritatively on Betty
Dalrymple--"keep to the beach."

"How very solicitous!" laughed Sonia Turgeinov as the young man strode
off. "That was intended especially for you, Mademoiselle. As for me, it
does not matter." With a shrug. "I might stroll into the wood, be
devoured by wild beasts, and who would care?"

Betty Dalrymple did not answer.

"A truce, Mademoiselle!" said the other in the same gay tone. "I know
very well what you think of me. You told me very clearly on the
_Nevski_, and before that, on shore. In this instance, however, since it
is through no fault or choice of mine that we are thrown thus closely
together, would it not be well to make the best of the situation?"

"There seems, indeed, no choice in the matter," answered the young girl
coldly.

"None, unless like those in the admirable play, we elect to pitch our
respective camps at different parts of the beach. But that would be
absurd, wouldn't it? Besides, I have my punishment--no light one for
Sonia Turgeinov who herself has been accustomed to a little adulation in
the past. I am _de trop_."

"_De trop_?" There was a faint uplifting of the brow. "_You_ should not
be altogether that."

"You mean I should be very friendly with him, my colleague and
confidant, _n'est ce pas_?" Sonia's dark eyes swept swiftly the proud
lovely face. "In truth he proved an able assistant." Her voice was a
little mocking. "What if I should tell you it was he who planned it all
--devised the ways and means?" A statue could, not have been more
immovable than Betty Dalrymple. "Or," suddenly, "what if I should say
quite--_au contraire_." The girl stirred. Sonia Turgeinov seemed to